Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Drew Reviews: Hill William

The
Short Version: Scott, in the present, is having some trouble - something's off,
in his head. He reflects back on his childhood - a typically misspent
youth - and wonders if perhaps something that happened back then, in the hills
of West Virginian Appalachia, something might've happened to mess him up in the
present. These reflections sort of take over, showing the reader just how
Scott got to the place he is now.

The Review: Part of the reason
I look forward to the Tournament of Books every year is that, inevitably, I
will discover an author I might've otherwise never heard about - or at least
never gotten around to. Last year, to my enduring entertainment (and hope
that we will one day become actual friends), it was Miles Klee and his
excellent debut novel Ivyland. This year, I think it's Scott McClanahan's Hill William that takes the
"never would've gotten around to this otherwise" prize - and I'm
damned glad I made the time.

Firstly, let's note the book itself.
It's a tiny little thing, clocking in at a smidge over 200 pages but the
pages are short and stout - the book fits into a jacket pocket, but not a back
pocket. It stands out on a shelf almost purely because of its odd size.Then
you pick it up - and what should, by all rights, be some kind of crazy wild
writing (judging from the vibe of the Goodreads & critical reviews out
there) ends up being a really wonderful evocation of a well-spent/misspent
youth. And the lasting effects that such a youth can have on a 'grownup'.

I won't deny that there's some truly
weird stuff in this book. Awkward sexual encounters, mostly - kids
experimenting, doing things that undoubtedly seem strange or horrible to the
grown-up reader but that probably didn't seem like much else other than
exploration as a kid. And for the first time I can think of, at least in
recent memory, McClanahan pulls off the narrative 'voice' of this kind of kid -
by not seeming at all like he's trying to write like a kid. The book
doesn't evoke childhood so much as it evokes what we remember childhood to be -
or at least what I remember it to be, even though my suburban PA childhood was
pretty far removed from the West Virginian childhood of our main character
(Scott, whose might also possibly be Scott McClanahan - it's unclear and I'm
okay with that (although, whoa, two books in a row for ToB X with
versions-of-author-as-narrator)). McClanahan introduces, in an early
chapter, an image of the mountains surrounding Rainelle, WV - and the image that
leaps into your mind is one of mountains and trees and wilderness and the sun
lighting up the sky as it sets and it's taking forever to set and the kids are
all out playing some game while the parents are - oh, who the hell knows what
the parents are doing, who cares? Because we kids are out running around
until it gets too dark to see. And
it's a time before concerns over locking doors, it's a time before concerns
over kids doing stupid things - because kids always do stupid things and always
have done stupid things, why the sudden increase in helicopter-parenting? - and
while that's a good thing, I think, it's also... that lack of complication can
be a bad thing, too. McClanahan almost lets you forget that the novel
opened up with a nearly-thirty Scott in a fight with his wife where he punched
himself in the face a few times. It's a jarring opening and yet he lulls
you into this security of memory (Tennessee Williams, eat your heart out)
before bringing us full-circle to the present and seeing Scott try to
understand the man he has become based on the things that happened to him as a
kid.

The writing itself is compact but clear
as crystal and completely comprehensible. This is not the sort of novel
that (nor, as it would seem, is McClanahan the sort of writer who) needs to try
and deploy linguistic overachievement in order to "tell the story" -
instead, McClanahan just speaks plainly and humanly and, what do you know, his
form of tough gritty writing ends up reading like a refreshing glass of spring
water. ...That was a terrible metaphor but hopefully, if you get a chance
to even skim a few pages of this book, you'll see what I mean. There's
something that cuts right to the heart of American adolescence in this book -
but adolescence in a time now past, a time before computers and iPhones and the
ennui of the modern teen. A scene where Scott debuts as quarterback plays
out like the sort of late summer memory I have from watching my neighbor debut
as QB when he was maybe 15 and I was maybe 7 or 8. Today, that pass Scott
threw would've been up on YouTube in moments - not because it was exceptional
necessarily but because that's how these things happen now. McClanahan is
writing about a time that I can still associate
with, in terms of my childhood. I wonder if future generations, or even
people only a few years younger than me, will understand this book in the same
way as I did - or if they'll approach it from a more clinical, less elemental
standpoint.

Rating: 4 out of 5. I
have to say, I really didn't like the ending. The twist on adolescent
America is great but once the story comes back to the present - especially once
present-Scott goes back to Rainelle - it sort of sputtered to the finish line
for me. The discomfort I could brush aside when seeing the kids doing
stupid things was now actually very real when nearly-30-year-old Scott did a
stupid thing. But I see why McClanahan did it and, hey, that's the story
he means to tell. But for me, the reason the book is worth reading is
that sense of captured old-school summers. The simplicity of growing up,
before everything happened. This book
made me want to go run through a field or play hide-and-seek under the
streetlights on a quiet suburban road. So, thanks, Scott.

Drew Broussard reads, a lot. When not doing that, he's writing stories or playing music or acting or producing or coming up with other ways to make trouble. He also has a day job at The Public Theater in New York City.

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I have been buried beneath small press and self-published review copies since 2009. My passion for supporting the small press and self publishing communities has driven me out into the world wide web to demonstrate alternative ways to spread the word about amazing publishers, authors, and novels you might never had heard of. Feeding your reading addiction, one book at a time.